


I Bite at the Face that Eats Me

by Piinutbutter



Category: Middens (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Horror, Mild Gore, Other, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/pseuds/Piinutbutter
Summary: I often wish I'd left the gun where it laid. I often wish I'd put the thing down, once the bloodshed started. I often wish many things, but I've never wished to see my 'partner' again.





	I Bite at the Face that Eats Me

Next to our campfire, the soft tissue of a corpse’s stomach is being torn like wet moss. 

“Ah,” the gun sighs beside me. “The miracle of life. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I say nothing. I rarely do these days, unless the gun is asking me a direct question. I don’t count this one. Not direct enough.

Rotten gas wafts from the dead chamber of the corpse’s innards. Something hard and shiny wiggles among the fetid organs. A blind newborn, looking for its way out.

“My children are beautiful,” the gun says. I can’t say I agree, but I’ve rarely found it prudent to argue with the weapon.

The infant creature crawls out of its dead womb. Its blindness is a fair bit more literal than I’d thought; unlike its...mother?...father?...it has no eye.

The gun lets out a soft little huff. It hops into my hand and angles for a closer look at its spawn. I oblige, bringing parent and child together for the first time. A chunk of intestinal slime rubs off on my glove. I do not cringe or look away, no matter how much I may want to. The gun would mock me for that.

The gun gives a blunt assessment of its next of kin: “He’s weak. I doubt he will fend for himself long enough to last in the rift. A tragedy, but that’s what happens when I use a weak host.” The gun rolls its eye back to meet mine and licks its lips. “You would be a perfect host, you know.”

I shiver. 

“Don’t worry, good sir. I wouldn’t treat you like the many strays we’ve fertilized together on our travels. I would care for you like the bloodthirsty beauty you are. I would devour you slowly and savor every lick.” Warm drool leaks onto my knuckles, joining the corpse fluids. “Our child would be even stronger than you. She - I think it would be a girl, don’t you? - she would bathe in blood. First in yours. Then in the whole world’s.”

I let the gun fall to the sand, turn away, remove my helmet, and vomit. Giggling fills the night air.

“Did I come on too strong?” the gun says. “I suppose I’m out of practice. Been out of the courtship game for a while, you see.”

It continues speaking as I wipe my mouth. “I’ll let the matter go for now. But don’t think I’ll forget you, darling.”

The gun keeps its promise. Long after I thought I’d left it behind, I find myself cornered in the back of a run-down bus. I’m the last one alive onboard, save for the vacant-eyed woman holding a gun in my face. 

I feel sorry for her. I feel equally frightened to know that I may well have looked like this to all the creatures I slew. Blank and content to serve the weapon I chose to be my master.

“Fate has a way of bringing together those who were meant to be,” the gun says. Its voice has grown rougher since I saw it last. Its metal is dull and scuffed. But its eye is as wide and its lips as moist as ever as it sizes me up. “Let’s consummate our union at last, shall we...partner?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Title source,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paJw3kPQwCU) because sometimes you remember the perfect theme song for an old ship and you can't help but whip up a ficlet to go with it.


End file.
